


Singularity

by Throwthemflowers



Series: Always You [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Exes, Exes to...?, M/M, Pining, Smut, do NOT jump on my dick I beg this is FICTION I am in an angsty mood, if they WERE ever exes here is how I'd imagine it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Throwthemflowers/pseuds/Throwthemflowers
Summary: Harry and Louis have mutually parted ways, but always seem to find themselves falling into each other's orbits. (This is FICTION this happens to be CANON COMPLIANT FICTION please please please I beg. Don't scream at me. Well do, but do it for the right reasons ;) ALL THE LOVE, TONI <3
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: Always You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656031
Comments: 24
Kudos: 104





	Singularity

Harry rolled over gently, his mind not quite awake enough to remember that he didn’t need to do that anymore. He registered the empty space soon enough, his eyes opening only to flutter closed again as he tried to imagine invisible things between his lashes. 

The beeping of his alarm rousted him, finally. He pressed at his phone with clumsy, swollen morning fingers, then nearly dropped the device when his lock screen appeared: _Louis._

He’d had a lot to drink the night before. He didn’t remember changing it from the soft baby pink of roses to the photo now before him, one he had taken of Louis in their bed, asleep, naked, the sheet draped around his bum, his face half buried in a pillow, his hair a disaster. 

As if some karmic force could read his sorrowful thoughts, a text bleeped through at that exact moment. 

_Hey. You called me last night. Checking you’re ok_

Shit. Harry searched his phone calls with trembling hands. Sure enough, he’d dialed Louis at two a.m.; the call had lasted for seven minutes. He ran a hand over his face in force of habit, but pulled away as he found prickly stubble; he’d forgotten about the new hair that now grew more regularly on his skin. 

_Sorry, was drunk. You didn’t have to listen to me. Sorry, again._

_Obviously you were drunk. Woke me up, you did_

_Shit._

Harry flopped back on the bed and groaned. It had been over a year since the last time they were officially ‘on.’ He phrased it like that to himself because no matter how often Louis pushed him away, he could never really admit they were truly over. But this was the longest stretch ever, even if it felt like the months had passed in a blur. In a way they had. Tragedy after heartbreak after punishing schedule and work and recording and planning and suddenly it had been a _year_.

_You remember anything?_

_No. Sorry. Probably my normal, right? Sorry again._

_Look_

Harry tried to calm his heart as he watched the bubbles of incoming text. 

_I’m in the area. Breakfast? I want to grab my winter jacket too_

_Ya of course. I’ll make stuff. Come hungry._

Louis sent back a thumbs up. Harry found he now had motivation to get up and dressed; the prospect of seeing his former partner boosted his mood like nothing else. 

By the time he’d clothed himself and begun the sausages and eggs and toast, the back door opened. Soft footfalls sounded along the hallway, and then he was there, standing in their kitchen, wearing trackies and an oversized sweatshirt and a weary smile. 

“Hi babe,” he said, easy as anything. Harry returned his smile, almost forgetting to flip the eggs. 

“Hi.” Harry walked closer and opened his arms, and Louis tucked into them, his body still too stiff, his arms lacking the tightness with which he used to hold Harry, but still. They touched. 

“Eggs on toast? My favorite.” Louis immediately set about pulling down two plates and fetching the silverware, as if no time had passed at all, as if he still frequented the kitchen every morning, humming little songs under his breath in his pants as Harry cut up bits of fruit. 

“Wanted something quick.” 

Harry regretted his choice of words when Louis’ face fell slightly. 

“Not, no. I mean. Not quick like that. Quick so you didn’t starve.” 

Louis smiled, reassured by the placation. “Thoughtful, thank you.”

He looked so much older somehow, not in the crinkles by his eyes or the weight of his smile, but in his gaze. He seemed outside of time, a bit like a ghost walking the earth, timeless. A person made up of only past. He lacked future. 

“You been eating, Lou? You’re thin.” 

Louis shook his head and laughed, sardonic. “Tried to wear me baggiest too. Didn’t want to worry you.” 

“I’m worried.” 

“Don’t be. Smoking more is all.” 

“Lou.”

“I know, but me stress is high right now. Promo’s shit, you know that.” 

Harry scraped their breakfast onto plates. “Ya. I know.” 

Louis tucked in hungrily, sparing Harry an appreciative glance over the edge of his fork. Despite pouring on salt, Harry couldn’t really taste the food; it went down his throat in a ubiquitous way, nothing special about it. 

“So, last night,” Louis began after he’d eaten half the plate, “You don’t remember?” 

Harry shook his head. “Sorry. Again. I should delete your number so it doesn’t keep happening.” 

“Nah, you’ve got it memorized, wouldn’t help.” Louis wiped his mouth on one of the pear-decorated napkins Harry had set out. “You, er, mentioned getting pregnant.” 

Harry’s fork fell from his hand with a clang. “What?”

“Rang me up, all teary, on about how you were worried ‘he’d’ knocked you up and, er, not me.” 

As he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his temples Harry vaguely recalled the truth of this revelation. He turned crimson, but didn’t make an attempt to hide it. Louis would know anyway.

“Fuck.” 

“Was it good? Model this time? You used to like that.” 

“No it was, um,” Harry played with the crust of his toast, “Just a friend of a friend. He works in tech, I think.” 

“Pretty?” 

Harry licked his suddenly dry lips. “Obviously not as pretty as you if I was worried my babies would look like him.” 

This made Louis’ eyebrow quirk, and he broke into a toothy grin. “True, that.” His demeanor sombered before he spoke again. “You’re not doing a very good job of moving on, Harry. We agreed. We made a deal. Here you are, year and some later, calling me phone in the middle of the night…” he paused and put a comforting hand over Harry’s, “Writing those songs. I’ve seen. S’ pretty obvious love.” 

Harry wrenched his hand away and bit his lip to keep it from trembling. He was always such a terrible crier when it came to Louis, and he willed himself to remain strong. 

“You’re one to talk. ‘Princess Park.’”

Louis shook his head, a certain set to his mouth accompanying the motion. “That’s not fair. I’ve had to wait. You can’t expect me to not tell my story.” 

“Well then why can’t I tell mine!” A hot tear slipped down Harry’s cheek and he hastily smacked it away. 

“You can, love, you can, you’re right. S’just… yours are still about me. Now. Just worries me is all.” 

“Aren’t you happy?” Harry stood, grateful for the excuse to turn on the tea kettle, as he’d forgotten earlier. “I’d be flattered.”

“Harry.” His tone held sympathy, and that’s what pushed Harry over the edge. He turned away and wiped his face with the hem of his shirt, thankful for the pain that the fabric caused against his soft skin. 

“S’not my fault, Lou, you’re like New York, you’re a dream people come to, not one they move away from.” 

Louis rounded the counter until he stood before Harry, shorter, slimmer, older in the eyes and by the specks of gray in his hair.

“Oh love.” With sure hands Louis pulled Harry to him, a hug fierce in its tenderness. “We agreed to this. Don’t you remember all the fights, Haz? How bitter this all made me, how distant you became.” 

“We were grieving, Lou, it wasn’t us, it was-” 

“Circumstance. It’s always that, it always will be. Harry, if we moved to some remote mountain it might work.” 

“I told you once I’d give up everything. I’d still.” 

Louis pulled back and took Harry’s hands in his own. “Difference now is I don’t want you to.” 

“The difference is, now you don’t want _me_.” Harry leaned down and placed a kiss on Louis’ forehead. His lips lingered there longer than they’d any right to, but he’d yearned so much for the smell of Louis’ skin, for the velvet touch of it, the tickle of his fringe, and now he inhaled greedily. 

Eventually Louis stepped away, breaking their contact. His eyes looked more conflicted than before, and that gave Harry a spark of hope. 

“Stay a bit? Go swimming? Watch a show?” His voice broke in his eagerness, but even that embarrassment didn’t deter him. “I’ve got the day free.” 

“I don’t, Haz. More promo, and band practice.” 

“Then just… just a few minutes.” This request rushed out of Harry in a whisper. He had no shame about the desperation painted on his every feature. 

Before Louis could fully shake his head, Harry was begging. 

“Please.” His voice dropped half an octave. “Please, Lou. It doesn’t have to mean anything.” 

Eyes blue as cobalt fixed on him from under fierce lashes. They stood, still as trees beside each other for a moment, and then all at once Louis inhaled, his mouth opening in a gasp as he moved forward, sure, practiced, and took Harry’s hips in hand. 

“You still good from last night?” 

“Yes,” Harry hurried out as he scrambled from his pajamas and underwear, letting his flannel and pink panties fall to the kitchen floor. 

“Lube still in the bottom drawer?” 

“Ya.” He hadn’t moved it, even though no one railed him in the kitchen now. 

“Think I have a rubber here somewhere, shit,” Louis muttered. 

“You don’t have to.” Harry wanted it like the old days. Like before they’d both dipped inside of other men, other people, like tasting gourmet foods that interested them, intrigued their taste buds. 

“Weren't you just fooking?” 

“I’ve seen him before. He’s clean, I’ve checked.” 

Louis acquiesced the point and slipped two lubed-up fingers between Harry’s cheeks. Harry winced. 

“You’re already raw, Haz, wide open. _Shit._ ” 

“But I want you. Please.” 

Louis wasted no time. Even with lube the initial push burned like hell, and Harry squirmed, his knees buckling, his muscles clenching, but Louis went slowly, gently, as he always did, and when he’d fit himself in entirely, it was if a key had found its lock, for Harry’s body _remembered,_ formed itself around the intrusion as if Louis’ dick had finally come to rest where it truly belonged. 

The familiar slight curve of it sent shivers down Harry’s spine, as did the heat and the smell of his ex, that strong odor of smoke and mint and _man_ that Harry wanted to smear on himself always, a perfume, a marking, an identity. 

Harry squeezed Louis tighter inside of him, the signal they’d used for years, and Louis began to pump. Tightening his grip on the edge of the sink, Harry let his stomach round outwards as the tension in his lower abdomen gave way to Louis’ flesh. 

Apart from the occasional groan Louis stayed silent, his knuckles turning white around Harry’s laurel tattoos, his face pressed against the nape of Harry’s neck, his breath bursting in hot clouds against Harry’s spine. 

Eternities formed and Harry counted them; the slicking sound of their bodies binding together, the pressure of warm limbs pressed against him, the pulse of Louis’ blood hooking into his core. He let out a whimper as Louis upped his pace, angling as he always did to find that elusive pressure point. 

“M’close,” Louis whispered, his hips beating even faster now; the slapping sound had started, that clapping together of skins that meant imminent release. 

Harry couldn’t make himself let go of the sink. It was his only grip on reality. He’d yearned, ached, pined for this moment for so long; it had been six months since Louis had last given in to his pitiful begging. And he’d spent those months trying fruitlessly to find another strain of ‘Louis,’ but he knew in his soul that he never would. 

“Please,” Harry rasped out as Louis pitched deepest into him, tensing, his body trembling as his dick pulsed out hot cum. “Please…” 

“Please what, love,” Louis whispered after several silent moments. His spent body rested over Harry as he caught his breath. 

“Please don’t say this is the last time.” 

Louis slipped out of him as he regained his feet, and Harry whimpered at that, for a gush of cum followed, stinging his tender hole. He let this dribble down his thighs and to the kitchen floor, unbothered, as he turned to face his ex lover, ex boyfriend, ex everything. 

“Haz,” Louis motioned at the still-solid dick between Harry’s legs. “Such a princess, aren’t you? C’mere.” 

With strong hands Louis reached between them, his fingers easy with the knowledge of Harry’s skin, every inch. 

Harry panted through it, eyes fixed on the man before him, on the angle of his jaw and the droop of his eyelids and the flex of his biceps as they controlled the fine motor skills being exercised between Harry’s legs. 

“Lou…” Harry jerked with the first of his spasms. 

“Ya? That’s right darling, get all wet for me sweetheart, no pussy as wet as yours, love…” 

Harry came to the gendered term, hips bucking as he coated Louis’ hands in sticky white. It was all Harry could do to stand upright, so he fell against Louis, wrapping his arms tight around the smaller man. 

“Please,” he repeated, fear consuming him now that the fire of sex had turned to coals. 

“You know what we are, love?” Louis stood him up and set about tearing a paper towel from its holder. “Planets. Always finding our way back to each other in these endless orbits.” 

Louis cleaned Harry and tucked him away, then did the same for himself before throwing the paper towel in the waste bin. 

“No Lou, you’re wrong.” Harry took his ex’s hand and kissed the back of it, letting his lips marvel at the rise of Louis’ knuckles. “I’m a planet, sure, but you’re the sun. I will forever be falling into you.” 

“Harry...” 

“I know.” Harry tried to smile. “But someday. I’m going to figure out how to become a singularity.”


End file.
